


Winter Night

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [14]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eli is up late at night brooding about the mistakes in his past. Cal convinces him to go back to bed and enjoy the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Night

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

The night was not silent. If you really listened, if you stilled your own body and mind and opened your senses to the world around you, the night came alive. The wind, muffled though it was by the thick glass of the pool room, could still be heard whispering through the bare branches of the trees outside, though it was barely strong enough to skitter the wet snow across the yard. Many of the usual forest animals had long been in hibernation, or had migrated to warmer climates; but in the trees just beyond the house a faint caw and screech could be heard, perhaps an owl preying on an errant field mouse. The house itself sighed and creaked and popped as its structure reacted to the temperature, the humidity, in ways the servants did not waste their energy trying to prevent. The servants themselves couldn’t be heard, of course, even by the most sensitive ears, though one would appear instantly if called.

Not everyone in the house was so silent, however.

“No need to knock,” Eli commented, without moving in his chair. He spoke softly, knowing his voice would echo slightly off the glass walls and ceiling. “I heard you coming down the stairs.”

“Guess my career as a burglar’s out, then,” Cal quipped, approaching the younger man from behind.

“You’re more the con man type,” Eli judged with a faint smirk. “J---s!” he exclaimed suddenly as the chair Cal grabbed screeched across the stone floor, exponentially louder than the sounds Eli had been listening to so carefully.

“Sorry,” Cal replied, though he’d probably done it more or less on purpose. He settled into the chair beside Eli’s with many sighs, squeaks, and thumps, though the younger man had reduced the sensitivity of his hearing by that point.

“You are not a quiet person,” Eli remarked unnecessarily, still slightly disgruntled by the interruption even as he recognized that it was inevitable.

“Nah, never really mastered that skill,” Cal shrugged. “Too much _presence_ , me mum always said.”

For a few minutes Cal was _almost_ quiet, but Eli was still uncomfortable. He knew the older man hadn’t come down there randomly, after all, and he knew Cal wouldn’t leave until he had asked his questions. Eli grew edgy, waiting for him to speak again.

“Snow’s quite nice, innit?” Cal finally said.

“We should’ve moved to the Bahamas,” Eli responded, more sharply than he’d intended. It was just what he’d been thinking at that moment.

“Thought you’d be used to snow,” Cal replied casually. As though anything they said wasn’t loaded with some other meaning.

“I’m sick of snow.” It was only December; there were still a good three months of snow left. “I’m sick of being cold.” He meant it literally only to a certain extent; bundled up in a sweater, flannels, and thick socks within the heated room, he wasn’t exactly cold right _now_.

Cal waited for Eli to speak again, saying nothing. He could be remarkably patient sometimes. Like a tiger, crouching for hours, waiting for its prey. No, that wasn’t fair, Eli decided. It was _him_ who had once been the patient predator. When Cal pounced, it was to wrestle with demons, not innocents.

“You really don’t dream?” Eli finally asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Of course I dream,” Cal corrected. “Everybody dreams. Go crazy if they didn’t.” They’d had this conversation before, but Eli found it difficult to accept. “I just don’t remember it.”

“Nothing? Not even glimpses? Feelings?”

“Nope. Not a thing.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Cal smirked at the accusation. “Loose wire, I guess. What was it this time?”

Eli sighed, staring across the glittering, snow-covered lawn with unfocused eyes. “Everything.”

“Long dream,” Cal commented dryly.

“Sometimes, I feel really weird in this town,” Eli went on, and for once Cal was slightly thrown off by the change of topic. Only slightly, though. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just pretending here, pretending to be someone respectable and friendly.” The other man nodded as he realized where this was going. “I have lunch and I go to the library and I take the kids to the park, and I feel like I’m just waiting for my target to show up so I can learn his routine before deciding how to kill him. I think about how the roof of the grocery store would make a great sniper’s nest. I listen to people talk on the street and catalog which ones are likely to be dissidents.” He paused for a moment, hands clenched in frustration. “That’s not normal.”

“Every time we go to a town festival I imagine what the ritual murder will be like,” Cal shrugged. “It’s just a holdover.”

Eli turned to stare at him. “Okay, _that’s_ not normal, either.”

“Sometimes Gillian thinks about stealing a newborn she’s seen on the street,” Cal continued, “and Ria wants to punch a man she thinks was staring at her too long. The instincts are really, really hard to get rid of.”

“I have to recognize my emotional reactions and determine their source before acting on them,” Eli recited, without enthusiasm. It was a mantra he knew well.

“It’s a good idea,” Cal confirmed lightly, “especially when your reaction involves hurting someone else.”

“Sometimes,” Eli tried again, after another quiet minute, “sometimes I feel like everything before the Valley didn’t happen at all, like it really _was_ just a dream, or maybe a movie I saw.”

Cal was tsking him before he’d finished speaking. “None of that, now. Don’t start dissociating on me. You take the bad with the good.”

Eli laughed mirthlessly. “That’s a lot of bad.”

“Then do a lot of good,” Cal suggested sensibly. “And don’t sleep by yourself.”

Eli shook his head. “Ria’s mad at me. I dunno, I said something stupid I guess,” he added at Cal’s questioning look. “Could’ve been any of ten things, actually. It’s the week when she’s really touchy.”

“Then it’s also the week when she’s sentimental,” Cal reminded him. In a family of observers the mood swings of a monthly cycle were very important to keep track of. “Go apologize. Bring her a muffin.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“That’s the best time for apologies,” Cal assured him. “And the worst time for sitting by yourself in the dark.”

“Right.” Eli started to stand, shaking his head. “A muffin.”

Cal followed him. “I think you’re getting better,” he judged cheekily. “It takes less time to convince you to go back to bed.”

“You were getting cold, weren’t you?” Eli guessed as they entered the hall. Unlike him, Cal had a thin t-shirt and no socks.

“H—l yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll get a muffin,” Eli decided, turning off at the kitchen. “Goodnight. Thanks,” he added. Cal waved it off, eager to get back to bed himself. Eli stuck his head back out of the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Cal? You don’t _really_ imagine ritual murders at all the town festivals, do you?”

“Nah,” Cal confirmed, shaking his head. “Only sometimes. And just for fun. You three are _way_ more messed up than _I_ am.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”


End file.
